Driven Under
by pedosmile
Summary: You, like, have to do this," he placed the weapon into America's hand, putting his hand on top of Alfred's, which had settled on the gun, "it has to be you." hinted Russia/America


**Driven Under**

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**Author's Note:** This is based on a what-if sort of plot. The what-if being that what if Russia and America had gone to war and America had lost? What if he and Poland plan their escape? Thank you for taking your time to read this!

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_Then she told me she had a gun,  
It sounded like she'd used it once before on him._  
Driven Under - Seether

It started when Matthew-whoever had come to visit Alfred, talking the sense into Alfred that Feliks couldn't. Of course, Feliks didn't really try, he could honestly say that he believed Alfred was going to stay in the house forever because he was just _so in love_ with the monster named Ivan. Because that's what love did, apparently, it blinded people, it made them into fools, it made them into something Feliks couldn't quite understand, something he never wanted to become. He never wanted to be a blind little sheep like so many he knew. He was smarter than that, anyways, he knew how to differentiate between _love_, _lust_, and _abuse._

Alfred was blind like that, Toris was blind like that, so many in this house was blind. And that's how Ivan wanted it.

Ivan must have hated Feliks.

Well, the feeling was very much mutual.

This was why Feliks was amused when Alfred came to him the night after his brother had visited, the determined look back in his eye. His blue eyes used to be so hollow and empty and blank. The sad part was that they used to be filled with unfathomable pain and ache, especially when he was with Ivan, especially whenever the older nation would touch him or kiss him. His eyes always gave him away. Feliks sometimes had to look away from those eyes, they made him sick in a way because Alfred's emotions were just so _raw_ that Poland could very nearly feel them. And it made him sick because he wasn't ever like that, nor would he ever.

Alfred was something he could never be, he was somewhat admirable to Poland, but not by much.

See, he _always_ hid behind a smile because it was easier to smile than show his emotions to him. It was easy because lies and deceit were easy. Hiding was easy. Not dealing with his emotions, the consequences, the actions to take, that was easy, too. He used to be like Alfred, used to be, and then Toris left him behind to go with Ivan and then he was split between Russia and Prussia and Austria, and, well, Poland wasn't Poland anymore. Because his nation had been virtually erased, his nation wasn't "Poland" anymore, he wasn't even on the maps. And he was alone again, Toris was gone, and he didn't like the emotions that came from being so isolated, so _used_.

So he chose to ignore them, to lock them away, to never really trust anyone again. Because obviously he couldn't, the one person he trusted had changed, anyways, while being a bitch to Ivan. And Feliks supposed that Liet was always kind of like that, he supposed that Toris would rather bow and grovel than fight and speak his mind. He was always "concerned" with making others happy. Of course, Feliks was very obviously unconcerned for other peoples happiness.

But, see, he used to think of making Toris happy because Toris was his friend and even though he was a bit selfish, he still tried in his little ways.

But now now. Everything had changed, is still changing, and to show his emotions, to trust in Liet again, that would be very problematic. That would cause so much more confusion and unwanted changes, things Feliks didn't want to deal with anymore.

"Let's leave," Alfred's voice was a barely contained whisper. He was looking at Feliks seriously, the steadfast determination in his eyes.

An amused smile crossed Feliks's face, his default emotion, even though he truly _was_ amused by this. He even laughed a bit.

He laughs because it's a bit of surprise, really, that Alfred had finally woke up, finally decided that he was going to leave this house, that he _could _leave this house, and go take back his nation, claim his freedom and independence again. Maybe he had had enough of Ivan, of the things Ivan was doing to him, with him, everything. He would be cruel to Alfred one minute and then loving the next, like a child, almost, and then he would toss Alfred aside for someone else, like Liet. And Alfred would go with it, Alfred wouldn't say anything about it. Not anymore, anyways, because he had given up, anyone could see it with the way he was around Russia. He looked dead, his eyes even deader, but he would go through the motions of kissing, hugging, fucking.

At first he did speak up, though, said what was on his mind, told Ivan how he really felt. How what Ivan was doing was affecting him. And that only gotten him laughed at. Both by Ivan and Feliks alike. Feliks laughed because America should have known what was to come once he was pulled into the house, in fact he should have known about Russia a long time ago, it's not as if people didn't _talk_ about Ivan.

Yes, they liked to talk about Russia. They liked to talk about how fucked up he was, how he was maybe always like this, they weren't sure, but he was now and that's all that mattered. He was a monster that everyone wanted to stop but no one had enough balls to try and do it alone. Just like no one had any balls to come rescue Alfred, to talk him out of this mistake, to try and get him out of the house. Poland supposed that once Alfred fell, the world was in awe, that kind of shocked stupor, they probably just couldn't _believe_ it finally happened. That Alfred was that _stupid_. But he was.

That's what was the funny part.

And now that the most powerful nation had fallen, had become a bitch of Ivan (to say the least), well... Now everyone was cowering in fear, weren't they? Sometimes Feliks couldn't help but wonder if this was how Ivan planned it all along, if he was just using Alfred that way. But then he sees the way Ivan obsesses over the younger nation, hears the stories Alfred tells him, and he thinks maybe that love is somewhat apart of it. Yes, Ivan really did love Alfred.

And Alfred was lucky. Alfred could say whatever he wanted to the older nation and he got off lightly. Supposedly, anyways.

Feliks was beaten every time he said what was on his mind. He was very opinionated and truth be told, he honestly liked to piss of Ivan. He liked to push the other nations buttons when they were alone, he liked it when Liet actually _looked_ at him when he came out of Ivan's room, bloodied and bruised and laughing like he was so amused by it all. Then he'd look at Lithuania and laugh at him, too, at the stupid, fake look of concern Toris would give him. Because Toris was never concerned about Feliks, this he was aware of. And Feliks was hardly concerned over the other nation, either, and that's just how they were. Secretly, however, Feliks liked the attention.

But that was his secret.

The funny thing was, though, that Ivan still thinks that Alfred will always be his, that Alfred is never going to belong to anyone else now just because he had very nearly destroyed the younger nation, because he had forced Alfred into his home, and Alfred still said he "loved" him. And Alfred had stayed, Alfred fucked and loved and kissed Ivan just like he always had, but broke a little more each time and the older nation hardly even noticed. He was just so _thrilled_ that America was finally _his_ and only _his_. He didn't seem to care that the younger nation was miserable.

Oh yes, he was miserable and it was so obvious to the other countries. Alfred didn't try to hide it like everyone else. Maybe because he didn't know how to hide it, maybe because he had never been in this situation before, or maybe because he had never seen _this_ side of Ivan. The greedy monster who liked to destroy others and call it "love". That he loved so many because everyone loved him, because he was the motherland, and never mind that he put the fucking fear of _God_ into them. Oh no no no, it was all love, honestly, truly. That's why he raped so many, that's why he beat so many into submission. He did it out of love, he did it to help and protect them. Yes, Ivan was fucked up, but _everyone_ knew that, _everyone. _Alfred couldn't have honestly been so _blind._

But the truth was, love made people blind. Blind and stupid. And another truth was that most nations who "loved" Ivan truly hated him but they were too scared to admit it or too stupid to know that they didn't really love him and they mistook these feelings for love. Or they mistook their feelings for love.

Feliks wasn't sure where Alfred fell. In this moment, he could see the hate in Alfred's eyes, could see the powerful determination, and the rage. But it wasn't a dark rage, it wasn't tainted, it just came with the idea of what he had been through, what his people had been through, the sheer stupidity of his actions and such. No, Alfred couldn't ever really be "dark" like that, he couldn't be twisted like all the other nations, because he was strangely pure, he still _cried_ over hurting other people in _war_. But one thing was very clear: Alfred _wanted_ revenge. He wanted revenge for what Ivan had done to him, his people, his nation, and that was the only thing on his mind.

Never mind he would be hurting the man he supposedly loved.

"And, like, go where?" Feliks asked. It's not as if he wasn't opposed to leaving, he would be behind Alfred one hundred percent because when he saw a chance at freedom, he'd always take it. And this was one of those chances.

He just had to be careful, he had to ensure that his country would be safe.

"Back to my nation," Alfred said. "I can send in troops to yours, too, yeah and... I can probably talk Arthur into helping us, and maybe even Francis. Matthew already said he would, you know, and Arthur has always hated Ivan..." his words were rushed, excited, he was glowing with his plan.

"My country has to, like, be safe... or as safe as it, like, can get," Feliks said slowly. He didn't have to state the obvious that he was _right_ next to Ivan, that his nation was in_ no_ shape for another war and take over. But he knew his people would rise up, he knew they would revolt, because it was for their freedom and independence. And they would have others helping them, too.

And then he would get out of this house.

He would get away from Ivan, get away from Toris. And he could go back to his nation, to his people, to his simple little amusements and pleasures and not have to _worry_. Of course, there would always be that nagging voice in the back of his mind, the one he wished he could get rid of, but it wouldn't be as loud as it was when he was stuck under Ivan's roof.

"I know," Alfred nodded. "I can't... I can't promise it but I can try, you know. I mean, maybe trying isn't good enough but I figured you'd want to come with me. I figured you'd want to be free, again, too, and get your nation back!" he smiled to the other nation, still glowing, looking for all the world like a little kid swelling with pride.

Feliks laughed.

"Totally," he nodded, "I, like, totally want to come with you." he was amused again because he knew there was only going to be one way out of this. And he knew who was going to have to do it and it certainly wasn't him.

"I have, like, an idea..." Poland tucked a few strands of hair behind his ear. "We only have, like, one way to get out of here, you know." he looked at America solemnly now, all traces of his usual smile wiped clean of his face. Surprising, really, but this was a serious subject.

Alfred only nodded slowly, as if he understood, and Feliks hadn't even said anything.

"'Kay," he turned his back to America and he pulled open the drawer near his bed, fingers brushing over the pistol he had snagged from Ivan. It was Alfred's anyways, the one Russia had taken from him. It was easy enough to find and get back, although Ivan was not at all pleased to find it missing. He was even less pleased when he couldn't find it.

But Feliks didn't talk about who took the blame for it.

He was turning back to the other nation now, gun in hand, and he was close to Alfred, inches apart, and the amused smile was back on his face.

"You, like, have to do this," he placed the weapon into America's hand, putting his hand on top of Alfred's, "it has to be you." he didn't have to explain why. Although, he had to admit that the idea of Alfred shooting Ivan was too amusing. Not only because of the revenge for both he and Alfred, but because the two loved each other.

But Ivan deserved it. Ivan deserved the hurt and betrayal and lies. He deserved everything that was going to happen to him and even Alfred knew it, though Feliks was sure the other nation didn't want to think of it like that. He probably didn't even want to think of it at all. Yes, little Alfred was looking down at their hands, the gun, just staring, face blank, lips pressed together. And then when he pulled himself back into reality, the firey determination slowly returned to his too-blue eyes and he nodded to Poland.

"Okay," he whispered it. "Okay, I can do it." Feliks just nodded, pulling his hand away from Alfred, watching as the other nation hid the gun in the waistband of his pants.

"Like... tonight, then," he says. "We can't, like, wait." and Alfred just nods again, because he knows, too. He knows that if he were to wait, to think on it, that he would back down, maybe even back out, and that just couldn't happen. Not again. He wouldn't make that mistake again.

Poland watched as America left. And he was closing the door behind him, closing the door to be alone, to think, when he glanced up.

He smiled, amused again.

Because there was Toris, very close to the door, his door, just staring at Feliks. And his smile quickly widened into a smirk and he kinda laughs at the look on Toris's face, laughs because it was that stupid fake look of concern again. But this concern probably wasn't for him. This concern was probably for Alfred, for Ivan, especially for Ivan. Feliks wondered if it was obvious to Toris that he was using Alfred in a way, that he was giving Alfred the gun, the bullets, and using the other nation for his own sort of revenge. Not against Alfred, of course, but against Ivan.

Toris doesn't say anything, simply stares, and Feliks doesn't say anything either. A silent understanding had seemed to pass between them, one in which Feliks trusted in Toris one final time, trusted that Lithuania wouldn't tell Russia of their plans, wouldn't try to stop them.

A part of Poland wants to reach out to Liet, his little Liet, and beg for him to come along, tell him that he would be safe with him, that Ivan couldn't hurt him anymore and he wouldn't let him. But he doesn't.

He's afraid of the rejection.

And the even the thought of him being afraid of Toris rejecting him scared him, the thought of him _caring_ that much scared him.

"Bye, Liet." he's resisting the urge to ask the other nation to come along, which is growing stronger and stronger with each passing moment, and he doesn't even know why. And it's annoying him, he hates that he cares so much, he hates the weird sick feeling of anxiety that fills his stomach, the feeling he hasn't felt in so long. So he just shuts the door, shuts it on Lithuania, on his emotions, on everything.

And he presses his forehead against it, and he whispers to himself, very quietly, "I want you to come with us, too...."

And then he pushes those thoughts back, he falls back into his usual self, the one that doesn't care, because he couldn't afford to care about the other nation in this moment. In this moment, he had to think of himself, his nation, his people.

He only had himself now.


End file.
